244th Hunger Games: Revelations
by Jack Dollin
Summary: Alecsander is protected in a comfortable blanket of his well to do family, his closest friend, and his forgotten past, but this fake reality is shattered when he is thrown into the Hunger Games, being forced to meet new and forgotten people, the capitol, and ultimately, himself. All original characters. Contains Slash.


**Summary**: The 244th Hunger Games are about to happen. Alecsander is protected in a comfortable blanket of his well to do family, his closest friend, and his forgotten past, but this fake reality is shattered when he is thrown into the Hunger Games, being forced to meet new people, the capitol, and ultimately, himself.

**Warnings:** Contains death, murder, slash, strong language, and extreme violence.

**A/N:** This is an original hunger games fic, meaning all original characters. I have written quite a bit of chapters for this, and I only need to edit them to be publishable for the site. If all goes well with this first chapter, I will continue to post the remaining chapters weekly. This chapter has 7707 words, and each chapter will have around 5000-7000 words. Please review at the end so I can see what you people think about it, and whether or not I should continue to edit and write! Thank you!

**Chapter 1**

My eyes snap open, blinking wildly as I take in my surroundings. An endless expanse of tall stalks of wheat lies before me. Further down, there is a dog, and I have to force my eyes to blink once more, trying to distinguish the dog's fur from the same grainy color of the swaying wheat. My own hair, which is almost the same color as everything else, too blows in the gust of the wind. The dog's eyes shoot to my own, as if I have intruded on him. He bolts away, blending in with the wheat once more. As if a game, I chase after it, a light innocent laughter escaping my mouth. My hands go out to the side and the soft grain lightly dances on the smooth skin of my hands. With the warm sun, and the earthy smell of the field, I embrace it all, perfectly at peace.

As I reach this status, the image of the dog and field deteriorates just as soon as it had appeared. The gentle voice of someone calling my name tears me from my place, and my hands extend out, trying to cling to the peace. Instead, I find a wooden plank that is the edge of my bed. I was just dreaming. "Alecsander." I sense the caller hovering just above me, but I keep my eyes tightly shut.

Instead, I grumble in my daze, bringing the warm blankets back up to my chin, wanting more than anything to go back to my dream. With the dream still in my mind, I realize that I was younger in my dream; several years younger, several years more innocent, and definitely, several years happier. I was blissful: ignorant and oblivious to the realities of the world. How I wish I had all of that again.

"Come on, Alecsander, it's time to get up," my mother's voice rings out again. She always tries to wake me up an hour earlier than when I really need to.

Sighing, I wave my hand in the air to where I presume her face is. "Sleepy," I grumble, but a small smile plays on my lips, as I push myself closer into the warmth of my bed. My eyes are still closed, but I can feel the same silly smile on her face. We play this game every morning. I'm in by no means a morning person, and she knows it takes me a long time to properly get up, so she wakes me in stages, letting my mind slowly crawl out the crevasses of my unconscious.

"Five minutes," I hear her soft voice say, before the light tapping of her feet signals her leaving. _She'll be back in fifteen, _I think as I roll over, snuggling back up into the soft comfort of the bed. I enter a light sleep, forcefully trying to reach that golden field once more, but, there's a darkening nagging mood in the pit of my stomach. I can't place it at first, and the more I think about it, the more it grows. Then I remember, and my eyes snap open for the first time. It's not because my mother calls my name again. No. It's the realization of what today is, and my heart falls in dread. The dreams of my sleep had protected me throughout the night of what I have feared all week.

Today is the Reaping.

I stare around the room in thought, thinking about what will inevitably come. I pull the sheets off me and sit up, letting my feet hit the cold wood of the floor. I get the feeling of dread and anxiety as I think about the prospect of what could actually happen at that dark event, and I can't help but let my mind run through all the different scenarios. Who will be called? What if it's someone I know, or worse, what if it's me? What would I do? What should I do? I know it's horrible, but I would rather have my brother's or sister's name called than my own. I'm just not built for the arena. Well, I suppose nobody is built for the arena in district 11, but of anyone, me especially.

I'm not quite sure how I would react if my name was chosen, but I bite my finger nails in nervousness at the prospect. My body is already unusually awake as my mind reels at all the possibilities.

Not knowing what to do, I am partially happy when my mother finally comes back into the room. My eyes immediately seek out hers, and when they meet, I know that she has been worrying over it just as much as I have. I see nervousness in those eyes, sadness, and most prominently, fear. For reasons I can't comprehend, it installs a desire to protect her, and I slowly pull myself up, trying to be strong. "It's okay, mum," I say as I bring my arms around her, "the chances that any of us will be chosen are small." She quickly brings her own arms around me, and I try to give her a reassuring squeeze, but it feels more like a tight embrace as my comment reminds me of my older siblings; my brother and my sister. My brother is eighteen years old and his last time having his name in the raffle. For my sister, who has just turned seventeen, she still has to endure two more years. I have the unlucky fortune of having to endure it three more times.

Still, we fare a lot better than most families in District 11, most of who are so poor that, just to get food to survive, they have to enter their names more than once. I've heard horror stories from school, where some people have a total of thirty or more slips of paper in the raffle. If I feel as horrible as I do now, I can't imagine how it would feel if I had to do that. It's a humbling reminder of how lucky I am...

My mother unwraps herself from my 'reassuring' embrace, before giving me a steady look. "I've made breakfast," my mother says, and with the sound of her voice, my brain registers her fear. My hand goes back to her shoulder, and I try to give her another reassuring squeeze, just wanting her not to worry about it anymore.

"Please don't worry, mum. We'll be fine, I promise." Even I can hear the fallacy of truth laced in my words.

"I know," she says, either not noticing it or just looking past it. She looks down at the floor, her light blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, giving her an even more depressing look. "I just wish that none of this would ever happen," she adds, her voice breaking slightly, "I wish that you'd never have to go through this."

At this point, I don't know what to say. _There isn't anything we can do about it. It has always been. Everyone has to go through it. _These things flicker through my mind as it reels at the acknowledgement from my mother.

"Come on, you need to get ready," my mother mutters before I have the chance to reply to her last statement. She once again gives me a long look, before slowly walking out of my bedroom and back into the living room.

I quickly make my way over to my wooden drawers, and the smooth cotton of a plain t-shirt rubs against my skin as I slip it on. I then quickly pull up a pair of black trousers before I make my way through the house and into the kitchen. Almost immediately, I'm hit with the melancholy atmosphere as my family sits at the dining room table in the center of the room, my brother and my sister's heads staring down at their plates. In the middle of the table, my mother has prepared some simple egg fluff and grape juice.

The air is eerily silent as I take a seat next to my brother and across from my sister. My father just sits at the foot of the table, his face hidden behind a newspaper. My mother is still at the stove, mixing together some extra eggs in a frying pan. The smell of the eggs frying and the food in the middle of the table reminds me once more of the fact that we have so much to eat. I easily contribute it to the fact that my parents are a part of the few in District 11 who make wine for the Capitol, a very profitable profession, especially since they are so good at it. It's almost bittersweet, though, as the only time of the year that we do really have a lot to eat is in the on-season, which are the months around the time of the Hunger Games. Because my parents are extremely good at making wine, the Capitol pays us more than most to buy it. Despite this fact, the amount it sells for is still only enough to provide food in the on-season. In the off-season, we have to ration the food that we have saved beforehand.

We wouldn't even have an off-on season if it weren't for the capitol. They take all of our wine before each winter so to make sure that we don't have any for ourselves. Because of this, we can't ration out our stores. But since we're basically the only food producing district, the Capitol controls the temperatures of the district artificially to reflect different growing seasons for different types of food. Winter can hardly be called a winter as it never gets even close to freezing. Instead, that's the season to grow more exotic fruits and vegetables, the temperature of everywhere reflecting this. With temperatures easily above 100, it's not very good for wine fermentation. During the summer, ironically, the temperatures drop and it's under perfect conditions to ferment wine. It's just another way for the Capitol to claim more control over our lives.

I sigh; thinking about this is hard, because I know so many people suffer throughout the District. Regardless, I reach across the table and place some of the yellow fluffy eggs onto my plate. The eerie silence continues, making the room cold and static as everyone divulges into their own thoughts about what will happen in the day. Just by their anxious faces, it's obvious that my brother and sister are just as worried about the Reaping as I am. I hesitantly take the chance to try and make them feel better, repeating the words I told my mother minutes before and the same words that I have been uttering all week. "You know the chances really are small." Each time I say them, I get more of a hint that it's more to reassure myself rather than to reassure anyone else. My mum looks up from the stove and gives me a small, warm smile, lighting up the despondent air.

Angelique's eyes too seem to flicker lighter, assured by my comment. "Yeah, we've survived the past couple of years without being chosen. It's still the same odds, right? They just need to be in our favor…"

My heart sinks at the reference to the famous motto. _Not really,_ I think, but the words don't come out of my mouth. The dark mood of the room gives me the thought to spend the morning away from my family. "Mother, do you mind if I go out for a bit?" I ask, looking up at her from the table. She simply nods, her eyes focused on the eggs in front of her. I quickly get up and walk out of the house through the kitchen door. No one asks where I'm going, because they already know. I need to see Yohanna, my best friend. It may be selfish, but It's what I need right now.

Smoke wafts out from the chimneys of the packed townhouses, filling the narrow and empty street with its fumes. My lungs easily adjust to breathe the air in as I make my way downhill on the cobbled street from my own tiny house that is producing its own smoke. The streets, which would usually be filled with the extra pollution of people traveling to the outskirts of the city, are empty today as everyone prepares for the Reaping. Compared to the other Districts, or so I have been taught in school, District 11 is one of the biggest in Panem. We specialize in agriculture, and our job is to essentially provide most of the common necessities for the country. Everything we make is needed to make something else; for example, our cotton is sent away to make clothes, wheat is sometimes sent away to make bread, and corn is sent away to make oil. Most of the time, we simply grow the basic things, like different types of fruit and vegetables, such as berries, apples, grapes, lettuce, cucumber, or tomatoes. Each plant is designated to have its own farm, and they all vary in size depending on their demand. The city itself is at the center of it all. Everyone in District 11 lives in the main city, and all of the different farms surround the city, expanding outward for miles and miles.

When I finally reach Yohanna's house, which is only down the street from my own, she is already at the door, a wide grin displayed on her face. "I was wondering when you were going to show up," she says as she comes bounding down the steps that lead out to the street from the house's door. My heart lifts at the gesture, her attitude already lighting up the miserable morning.

_She's not even thinking about the Reaping_, I think, and it's not because she doesn't remember; she just doesn't care. The whole thing reminds me of my dream this morning. Yohanna is just so carefree that it makes her a perfect representation of all the attributes I had when I was a child; the innocence that I desire, and the carefree attitude I seek.

It's hard to determine when Yohanna and I met for the first time. I think we have always known each other since we were newborns, because both of our mothers have always been good friends. However, I've pinpointed the time when we became friends to when we were about five years old. It was the first day of school, and to the discredit of our teacher's fortune, we were assigned to sit together in class. Ever since that day, we have been inseparable, always being together when possible and causing the most trouble we could in school.

"Eh, well I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with you today," I say cheekily, which immediately awards me a light slap on the shoulder.

"Ouch. And here I was thinking we were friends." The corners of her mouth pull up into a smile as she wraps her arms around me. My arms return the gesture, wrapping them around her slight frame.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask as I pull back from the embrace.

"What else do we do, Alec?" she asks rhetorically, a brightness lighting up her blue eyes.

I roll my own. "Alright, lead the way."

We immediately set off down the narrow street, navigating our way through the complex interwoven roads and paths all over the city. After five minutes of this, we reach our destination. The entrance to one of the smaller farms of the District, like always, is guarded by two peacekeepers on either side of a tall iron gate; the picture of an apple sits at the top, representing the apple tree farm. Connected to both sides of the gate is a large ten foot fence that surrounds the entire city, protecting the 'precious' food from the citizens. Anyone caught jumping the fence is severely punished, but Yohanna and I do it anyway; not for the food, but just for the excitement of it. We sort of have a reputation for being mischievous, and we've been caught a few times, but our punishments aren't too severe. We've never been physically punished, but, I suspect that is because we aren't adults yet…

Yohanna yawns mockingly at the scene, the peacekeepers adorned with the same white uniforms that they have always worn. I grin lightly, shaking my head at her, before we turn down an extremely thin alleyway between two buildings. I remember first coming down this alley with Yohanna. The damp smell and the lack of light made it so creepy at first, but now, it is so worn with our use that it feels just like any other part of the city.

We continue down the dark path until we get to a ladder on the side of one of the houses. The rough rust of the ladder clings to my skin as we pull ourselves up onto the top of the roof. Because the houses are so crammed together, it is easy to jump from one to the next, the distance of the gaps only being one to two feet apart. We jump from one roof to the next until we get to a house that bends over the street that borders the fence to the tree farm. It's quite a big jump, but we've done it so many times now that we can just do it instinctively. I'm the first to take a running leap across the street, making sure that I jump far and high enough to get over the fence. I fly through the air with exhilaration, my mind easily far gone from the distraction of the Reaping. I turn to roll just before I hit the ground, landing up on crouched legs. I feel the soft grass with my hands beneath me, getting my bearing before grinning cockily up at Yohanna.

She just rolls her eyes at me, her head shaking once again. As she hurls herself across the street, my eyes snap to her long blonde hair trailing behind her. I have never viewed Yohanna in any way other than platonic, but as she jumps across the street, the wind whipping around her, I can't help but think how beautiful she is. Her light hair and fair skin go so perfectly well together that it is easy to see how she is one of the prettiest girls in the district. I, like her, am extremely fair as well; unlike her, however, I'm not considered one of the best looking boys. Whilst light hair and light skin is sought after in girls, in guys, darker complexions rule, and I'm almost a carbon copy of Yohanna. We've been mistaken for siblings many times before, but we're not related at all. We're just best friends, and that's how I like it.

Yohanna lands beside me in much the same manner as I landed. I get up from my position, and we're about to go further into the farm when a window to the house we just jumped from opens up.

"Don't you two think I don't know what you two are up to!" Mrs. Po'pula, a large beefy lady calls out from the window, waving her finger at us. "I hear you two everyday on my roof! I'll be forced to contact the peacekeepers if it continues," she warns, but the only thing coming from our faces are two large grins. She says something like this every week.

"Yeah, yeah, Mrs. Po'pula. Have a nice day!" Yohanna dismisses, nudging me to continue into the farm. The lady huffs angrily as we quickly disappear into the neat rows of apple trees.

"She needs to lighten up," I say, casually, as we stop at one of the trees.

Yohanna merely murmurs in agreement as she easily climbs up the tree. I do the same, reaching up to a branch and hauling myself up. We both climb up through the tree until we reach the top, giving us both a panoramic view of the District. The scent of pollen blows in the wind, swaying the trees. To the west, the smoke of the city climbs into the sky, in stark contrast to the natural earthy smell of the farm. It's almost like being in the wilderness, with the clean air and the endless expanse of green and red. To the east, a thirty foot gate surrounds not only the tree farm, but the entire district. Beyond it, there really is a wilderness…

I think about my dream this morning. I was in the wilderness in that dream. For as long as I can remember, I've had dreams like that: escaping the confounds of the District and escaping the watchful eye of Capitol. Heading out into the wilderness to be free…

"Alec?" Yohanna's light voice calls out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look at her, to see her staring at me. I shake my head, distancing myself from the thoughts.

.I smile softly. "Sorry. I was just daydreaming…"

"You were thinking about the Reaping, weren't you?" she calmly asks as her eyes watch me carefully. I return her gaze, shocked, because she has never mentioned the Games before. Not even to me.

"Surprisingly… No, I wasn't." I laugh, because the only time she does ask me is the time I'm really not thinking about it.

"Oh…" Her eyes fall from my face, looking down at the ground below the branches. "I was," she admits.

"You think about the Reaping?"

"Of course I do," she tells me, dropping down a branch in the tree. I take a last look at the scenery before I follow her.

"I just didn't think you ever thought about it…"

Yohanna then grins stupidly at me. "Alec, I'm pretty sure everyone thinks about the Reaping. It dictates our lives. I may not act like it affects me, but it does."

The silence that follows her words escapes my grasp as I think about the revelation, and I get the same feeling I got with my mother. I want to protect her. "I think about it all the time…" I admit, my voice lowering.

She drops down to the floor from a branch, before quickly dusting herself off. "What did you come up with?" she asks.

"What do you mean?" I ask as I too drop down to the floor.

"How do you think you would do if you were chosen?" she asks, as she sits down, leaning against the tree. I fall down next to her, crossing my legs.

_How would I do? _This makes me pause for a moment, as I never even thought about myself actually being in the games, just if my name was called out or something. I contemplate what would happen to me if I was chosen. Usually when I think about the Hunger Games, I think of the ruthless, strong, and well trained career tributes. How the heck would I survive against those people? When I look at myself, I only see someone who, compared to the careers, is small, weak, and definitely not trained. I suppose I have survival skills, but what good would that do when a big bloodthirsty tribute is trying to kill me? I am fast and I'm really good at running through obstacles, but still, what use would that do against someone like that? The only thing I could really do is escape, but that's about it.

I smile, a slight mocking laugh coming to my lips. "I reckon I would either die on the first day in the blood bath, or I would die a day or two later when people start coming after me." My eyes scan over her, and her eyebrows are furrowed, indicating that she is thinking about it as much as I am. "What did you come up with?"

She smiles. "The same as you," she admits with a hint of sarcastic amusement. It brings a laugh from my mouth at the response; it's so typically Yohanna.

Yohanna laughs with me, and we both shake our heads at the same time. "So, we'll both die. Neither one of us has a chance." What's so funny about it? Like so many other things, it's the only thing to do. Otherwise, we would all be as dark and depressing as the Capitol. It could also just be our dark sense of humor…

I brush the apples on the floor out of my way as I crawl out into the middle of one of the rows, where the sun is shining through. I lay down, closing my eyes as the stalks of grass tickle my back and the warmth of the sun penetrates my skin. I sigh at the pleasurable feeling.

"What would you do if I were chosen?" Yohanna asks carefully from her position at the tree.

I keep my eyes closed as my mind ponders the question. What would I do? Would I cry? Would I scream? Try to stop it? Or would I just stand there because I know there would be nothing I could do? I wouldn't even be allowed to volunteer for her. "I don't know…" I say honestly, looking up at her to see her reaction. She doesn't seem fazed by the remark. "What would you if it were me?" I ask just as carefully.

She brings her hands to her head, rubbing her eyes as she herself seems to think about it, probably going through all the same possibilities. In the end, she ceases her rubbing, before she smiles stupidly at me. I roll my eyes, quickly laying back down, already knowing she's going to make a joke of the matter. "I'd get the fuck out of there before I embarrass myself," she replies with stifled amusement.

"Uh-huh," I just say with amusement in my voice, enjoying the sun once more. "Let's just hope that we aren't chosen."

When she doesn't respond, I look up at her once more. Again, her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and I realize how much she must really be worrying about it. It makes me ponder the notion if she has always worried about it to this extent.

For the rest of the morning, we stay deep in the tree farm – climbing trees, laughing, but not eating the fruit. When the sun reaches its apex in the sky, like all good things, it must come to an end. We usually leave when it is dark, but the sun is signaling that we have to get back in time for the Reaping. We make our way to the fence where we jumped in from, and when we get there, we're happy to hear the absence of any noise, which means there is also an absence of peacekeepers. Luckily, everyone must already be getting ready. With our chance at not being caught, we run up to the fence as quickly as we can, before we both pull ourselves up and swing over.

I walk Yohanna back to her house before I make my way back to my own. "I'll see you in a few then…" I say to her as she stands at her door at the top of the five steps. My voice radiates depression at the complete seriousness of the situation. With the Reaping being so close, this almost feels like a goodbye.

With the sound of my voice, she quickly comes down the steps and wraps her arms around me. It's almost exactly like this morning, except this time, the air is filled with sorrow. "Maybe we should say goodbye now, in case one of us is chosen," she says, and she pulls back, her eyes filled with gloom.

I blink at the response, unsure of how to act. Suddenly, my heart inside my chest feels all the heavier as if I only grasp how truly horrific that scenario would be now. I wrap my arms around her slight frame again, resting my head on her shoulder. "That won't happen, Yohanna. Just remember, there are many more people who have their names in the bowl. Way more times than us," I say, and although I hate admitting these uttered words, the only thing I care for right now, is to reassure my best friend.

She simply nods on my own shoulder, and we stay like that for a while, until finally, we have to separate. As she looks at me, she has a strange smile as tears edge her eyes. "It's a bit sad how we both think each other will die, isn't it?" she mumbles, a soft hiccup of a laugh escaping her.

I quickly realize what she means, and it's true. I can't help but let out a sad laugh in return, nodding my head. "No…" I say sarcastically, "I think you would win."

She lets out another short laugh, rolling her eyes at me.

"Trust me, Yohanna, nothing will happen, and if one of us is chosen, then we'll just have to be jealous because at least we'll get to leave this hell hole anyways," I say, trying to make the dismal situation positive.

"That is true." She nods.

As a gust of wind blows down the street, fitting for the situation, I become serious and I place my hand on her soft shoulder. "I'll see you at the Reaping, Yohanna, and when it ends, we won't have to worry about it anymore…" _At least for another fifty weeks,_ I think, but I emit that from my comment. I give her a reassuring kiss on her cheek, before I turn away, making my way back home.

When I arrive at the house, I'm confronted by the loud chattering of my family as they hurriedly get ready. "Alecsander!" my mother calls when she sees me, "you need to hurry!" She grabs my arm, shoving me into the bathroom, before she quickly slams the door shut behind me. The energy of my family unsettles my stomach once again, and the feeling of dread and nervousness that had escaped me with Yohanna returns in full wave.

The room's air is hot and misty as the water from the wooden tub steams out. I quickly undress and get in the hot water to wash myself down. I don't have a lot of time, so I just do the basics. After scrubbing my body, I get out of the tub before I dry myself with another cotton towel. I wrap it around my waist and sneak my way back into my room through the living room. When I get to my bed, my hands trail a smooth and rather expensive white blazer and dress trousers; something my mother had obviously bought me for the Reaping. As my hand trails the collar, I notice how well the whiteness of it matches my own pale skin. I eagerly put on all the pieces, before I look at myself in the mirror. My eyebrows are furrowed in nervous trepidation, the event all too real. You would think that experiencing this every year would make it easier, but it doesn't. It only seems to get worse, in fact, because the odds that you are chosen also go up.

As I look in the mirror at my whole form, I notice how well the suit fits me, but I also notice that my irises, which are usually green as grass, are hidden by my overly large pupils. I look to my hands; they are shaking, and I realize: I'm terrified.

I try to calm my nerves as I exit my bedroom, physically holding my hands together so they stop shaking. When I enter the living room, I see that my family is waiting for me. The cold melancholy air from this morning overwhelms me once more as I see the faces of everyone; who are all so captivated by the angst. I blink a couple of times when I notice the white that we're all wearing, and I realize that my mother purposefully set it up so that we're matching.

"I thought it would go well with the name," she says as if reading my mind.

"You just have to make every situation corny," I say, no sense of venom in my words, but light joking. I hesitantly go over to my sister and give her a hug. I then give my mother a hug, who returns the embrace tightly. I look to my brother, and he seems to nod reassuringly at me, and for a second, I realize that I'm not the only one who can look after my mother and sister. We may not get along, but at least I can rely on him for doing that. I feel a cold shiver run down my spine at the situation, for I'm not only gripped by fear for myself, but I'm also gripped by fear for my mother and my siblings; my mother because she could very well lose one of us, and my siblings because I could very well lose one of them… As I hug my mother, I glance to the side at my father, who is just standing back, seemingly apathetic. It doesn't unnerve me, as he has always been like that.

We wait in the room for a while longer, mostly just acting on our nerves and anticipating for the hand of the clock to reach one o'clock. When it does, all of our eyes seem to connect at the same time, and we all reluctantly get up. Attendance at the Reaping is absolutely mandatory for those families with children. Those who don't have children are forced to watch it on massive screens at centers set up around the city. This is mostly because there are so many people in District 11 that not all of them are able to fit in the main city center, which is in front of the District Town Hall. When we exit the house and go into the streets, all the neighbors are doing the same, waiting till the last minute to have to go through this. The atmosphere is absolutely hopeless as everyone lethargically shuffles through the streets, heads turned down.

When we get to city center, we are separated in check-in, before being herded together in front of the large stage that borders the Town Hall. Ordered from youngest to oldest, arm to arm, we are crammed into our designated age group areas. The families outline the center, standing on steps of buildings and next to the dirty walls. As the skin of another boy that I do not know rubs against my arm, my heart beats louder and faster with every second. I wring my hands together in a nervous fit of dread and horror of what is to come. Despite the amount of people, it is eerily quiet, everyone too busy with their own worries to voice anything.

After five more minutes, we are all perfectly lined up, the center is full, and we all just wait for the procedures to begin all over again. It's almost exactly the same from one year to the next, just with different actors. With the center full, it's this time every year when we truly realize just how many people our District has. With the food that we produce, just based on our numbers alone, it's a surprise that the rest of Panem gets anything at all; that's without the starvation factor of course.

In the mass of people, I try to look for Yohanna, but when I can't find her, I turn my attention to find Angelique. I try to scan over the hundreds of heads, but again, I can't see her either. I can't see anyone. I realize I am alone, and it only causes my hands to shake even more, as my anxiousness increases. As I look around at the people around me, I know that I'm not the only one with the feeling, as everyone's eyes dash about the center, trying to find people they know themselves. Everyone too appears nervous, some shake like me, and some are physically twitching, whilst others have the emotion written all over their faces.

My attention is pried away from trying to find the others when a piercing voice in a Capitol accent yells out through the crowd. As if in unison, everyone turns their attention to the stage, where Angrich Ebelsome, an extremely flamboyant man, speaks into the microphone. His smile, which is plastered widely across his face, beams down at us. The makeup on his face makes his smile look even wider as if it reaches almost creepily from ear to ear. As the wind blows into the town center, his yellow dyed hair blows to the side past his shoulders. He stands upon a tall podium, which elevates him much higher than those on the stage. Behind him, there are eight chairs, all lined up against the wall to the Town Hall. They are occupied by the mayor and the past victors from long ago; all of them are elderly.

"Happy Hunger Games, everybody, and I welcome you, District 11, to the Reaping!" His smile is still plastered on his face, and I wonder curiously if he is actually even smiling at all. "I am _so _honored and so very excited to announce those chosen to represent District 11 for the 244th annual Hunger Games!" He almost screams into the microphone with his excitement, and I have the urge to cover my ears. Those around me continue the eerie silence that follows his statement, not even the pigeons on the rooftops making any noise. As if noticing this, I finally see his smile slowly fade. "First event! Let us all welcome Mayor Tilbit to the stage!"

Angrich steps down from the podium before the mayor, who is already an extremely tall and domineering man, steps up, making him look even more so. His dark skin and one of the large hats he is seen always wearing shrouds his eyes, making him appear even more mysterious and menacing. Most would assume that he was harmless, since he never makes any public appearances, except for the Reaping once a year, but he works behind the scenes, making life in District 11 harder for everyone. This is the man that Yohanna and I blame for making District 11 such a horrible place, even though we both know that he is just a puppet of the Capitol.

"Indeed, thank you, Mr. Ebelsome," he says, his voice as deep as ever, before he nods as our District guide takes his seat next to an old lady, who I can't place.

Like every year, the mayor recounts the entire simplified history of Panem: the time before it was created, how it was created, The Dark Days, why The Hunger Games were created to punish the Districts, and then, he recounts the history of Peeta Mellarck and Katniss Everdeen in the 74th Hunger Games. He explains how they were the last two tributes alive in the Games, and that they sacrificed their lives because they were so madly in love with one another. He tells us how they couldn't dare live without each other and the notion of their unyielding love taught the Capitol a lesson; because of the events, they graciously changed the rules of the Games so that in 'special' cases, more than one tribute could win. In turn, however, the Districts of Panem would have to offer up two more tributes than normally required. Now, this is the Capitol's telling of what happened. There is another story, however, which is only rumors running through the Districts that there was a second rebellion against the Capitol.

A Second Dark Days, of sorts, that was initiated and fueled by Katniss and Peeta. In this telling, they were about to kill themselves when the Gamemakers stopped them, declaring them both the winners of the Games. This act of rebellion was apparently the thing that sparked for everyone to take action, but in the end, the Capitol defeated the Districts once more, and as punishment, doubled the amount of tributes were required. In my opinion, I don't believe either, as there isn't anyone alive to say what actually did happen. Regardless, because of whatever Katniss and Peeta did, since the 75th Hunger Games, each year, four people are required to be offered as tribute for the Games.

I jump slightly, snapping out of my stupor once more when I hear the shrill and annoying voice of Angrich again. The Mayor has finished speaking and is now sitting in a chair along the wall. "And now for the moment we have all been waiting for!" he says gleefully as he hobbles over to one of the glass balls next to the podium. "I will begin announcing the results of the Reaping!"

He gently places his hands along the rim of the sphere, looking in carefully. He picks up his hand delicately, before placing his long slender fingers into the bowl. He snatches a ticket before plucking it out into the open. My heart almost stops as he begins unraveling the ticket and I hope, with everything I have, that it isn't Yohanna or Angelique.

He flattens it out before calling out the name. "Angelique White!" he yells into the microphone.

_Oh god no… _Panic fills me, and I look wildly around the city center once more. If my hands were shaking before, they're practically twitching now. It's at this point, that I see Yohanna. She's looking at me with wide, just as shocked eyes. Then, I see my sister, slowly walking out to the isle. On one of the large screens, a camera zooms onto her small, frightened face. With shaky hands, she is trying to straighten her long dark blonde hair.

I, too, begin walking helplessly out into the isle, at which point, the hand of a peacekeeper seized my shoulder, who seems to know from previous reaping's. My voice catches in my throat. I can't volunteer. I can't even say anything. I'm useless.

"Come on up," he says gleefully as he extends his arms around her shoulders. "Now, tell me, Angelique, how old are you?" He brings the microphone down in front of her face.

Angelique looks up at the man like he's lost his mind. Her knees are shaking and even her hands, just like mine, are twitching by her side. "S-Seventeen," she mumbles, tears threatening to spill.

I want to scream, but once again, my voice catches in my throat, and I'm helpless. I'm of no use to stop anything. Then, I see my brother off to the side; he is looking at me as well, and I watch him, taking him in for a moment. If it had been my brother, would I have volunteered? With it being a boy and me having a choice, would have I volunteered for him?

"Aren't you lucky," Angrich says, his smile unwavering, "Everyone clap for Angelique!" He brings his hands in front of his face, and he claps excitedly. There is a small unceremonious clap that is only created by fear. I don't clap.

Angrich's eyebrows furrow for a moment, him seemingly becoming aware of the atmosphere, and so he tries to do a kind smile, but, even with his makeup, it looks more like a snarl. "Why don't we do the boys?" His movement over to the other glass ball sets me on panic all at once. Pitifully, I forget all about Angelique, as fear for myself grows once more. I can feel the sweat on my forehead as my heart pounds wildly in my chest. _It could still be me…_ I think as the dread, nervousness, and anxiety of the entire week hits me tenfold when his long slender fingers once again extend into the ball.

He pulls the paper out, and I'm overwhelmed by a short period of dizziness that almost brings me to my knees. I feel my eyes lull slightly before I force myself to snap out of it.

"Alecsander White!"

At this point, everything stops. My heart stops in my chest. My breath gets caught in my throat, and every single person in the square gets frozen in time as the name registers in my mind. _Alecsander White… Me. _Then a blood-screeching scream snaps me back to reality. The wrenching voice seems to push the play buttons and then the fast-forward button as I stumble forward in the isle and up to the stage.

"NO!" I hear Yohanna behind me, pushing through the crowd, her scream damaging everyone's ears, ripping me apart… blood-screeching. That would have been me if I only had the courage. I couldn't even speak for my sister, but Yohanna is speaking for me. "Alec!" I can't look back at her, because if I do, I will stop, and then the whole country will watch me being dragged up to the stage by peacekeepers. I can't let that happen…

I stagger, almost automatically, up the steps, trying to keep my face completely devoid of any emotion, but, inside my heart feels like it has finally broken down into my stomach. The dread and anxiety of the week ceases, because I know I am going to die. You'd think I would be completely distraught by this fact, but, the rush of the situation is too much for my mind to handle.

In the midst of the chaos in my brain, I see Yohanna, being held back by the peacekeepers as she struggles to reach me. When I look into her eyes, my mind barely acknowledges her desperation, but I can see it. Then I look to my mother, who is crying in a heap on the floor. How should I react to that? I don't know… Then I look to my brother. He's looking at me in a way that I haven't ever seen him look at me before. I see the tears threatening his eyes, and I can't help but be shocked by them. Then I manage to look at my face on the large screen, and I see only fear.


End file.
